TOS: I Gotta Go
by SuperluminalM42
Summary: While scouting the Enterprise, and plotting its take over. Khan must put off plans for an empire and find a restroom.


This short story takes place early in TOS episode "Space Seed."

Khan didn't waste time. After being escorted from Sick Bay to his quarters, he was out scouting the corridors of the Enterprise and plotting its take over. With out warning, there was an explosion in his stomach and the sensation of lava rising up his esophagus. For a genetically enhanced person, such as Khan, an upset stomach is just a minor annoyance. But Khan knew this was no ordinary upset stomach. Two hundred years earlier, just before boarding the "Botany Bay", he had consumed three plates of extra spicy Mongolian Beef at the dining hall at Area 51. While he slept for two centuries, the meat had slowly rotted and now threatened to explode out both ends of his body.

During his reconnaissance he had not seen anything he could readily identify as the proper facilities and his quarters were two decks up. Then he spotted the large burly red shirted security guard who had just escorted him to his quarters.

"Mr. Baldwin," Khan said, "would you be so kind as to direct me to the nearest water closet?"

The red shirt blinked in confusion, then said, "You can get a glass of water out of any replicator."

"No that's not what I mean." The accent, American, Khan surmised. "I believe you Americans call it a bathroom."

"If you need to bathe, there's a sonic shower in your quarters, and I'm not American, I'm from the New Arkansas colony on Rigel Kentarus."

Arkansas, Khan thought with disdain. He knew of it, home to the most backward and ignorant people in North America, hillbillies they were called and home state of the detestable President Clinton. That reminds me: I wonder if his first lady ever was elected POTUS? My White House spy's told me that she was a formidable woman and was actually the one running the country. A gurgle in his stomach brought him back to the present.

"No, Mr. Baldwin, what I seek is a lavatory."

"There are several on the Enterprise, there's a biology lab, hydroponics lab, a..."

"NO," gagh this man is dense, there must be a word that his simian mind will understand. He searched his distant memories. What was that word my nana used when I was a small boy?

"Mr. Baldwin, a lavatory is a place people go when they need to poo poo."

"Oh, I understand, we call them Urination Stations now. This way."

Khan followed the red shirt down the hall a ways to a door labeled Urination Station 10-14. A word was illuminated above the door. How typical Khan thought, two hundred years in suspended animation, traveling who knows how many light years and here I stand with rotten meat twisting my gut, and I'm thwarted by that word most hated by travelers: Occupied.

His stomach did a double summer salt and he felt as if a wild animal was clawing its way up his esophagus. Finally, the door opened and out stepped a young man.

"You," Khan snarled, "you kept me waiting in my moment of agony. I never forget a face, and I will well remember yours. Then revenge will be mine...Oh um, I'm so sorry, Mr.?"

"Chekov, sir, Pavel Chekov."

"Please, Mr. Chekov, accept my most humble apology, two centuries with out an urination station break, can leave a person rather, discomfigured."

"Don't voory about it. Dat happens a lot around hear." Chekov turned and walked away. Indeed, I will not worry about it, Mr. Check Off, soon I will have my revenge. Khan then shuffled into the urination station.

It was a small room, no bigger than an old fashion phone booth. It was empty, except for a panel with three buttons labeled: F, U, and N. Above the panel in barely legible hand writing, some one had scrawled, "Kirk is a jerk."

"Um, Mr. Baldwin, I'm embarrassed to admit, but I'm at loss to understand how this facility works?"

It's quite simple," Baldwin leaned in an pointed to the panel, he noticed the graffiti and snickered. "Well, who ever it is, is at it again. Every one in security, thinks that's Spock's hand writing, but I think its actually Dr..."

"Err umm." Khan grunted.

"Oh, sorry, the buttons. F stands for fecal material, or some call it the Federation button, U is for urine and N is for nausea. When the door closes, just select the relevant button. Your body will scanned and transporter will beam the waste from your body into our food replicators."

Khan's eyes widened at the horror of that thought.

"Just kidding, it transports it to a waste management facility on deck 22." Humor, Khan thought, a crutch for the addle minded. "You don't even have to drop your pants the way people in the old days did."

"Thank you, Mr. Baldwin. I truly appreciate your assistance." I will have a special place reserved for you in my torture chambers.

The red shirt stepped back, when the door closed, Khan began frantically punching all three buttons.

"Please stand still." A computer voice said. A light washed over his body, followed by the whine of a transporter. He slumped against the wall and breathed a sigh of blessed relief. He lingered a few seconds, then stood up straight, adjusted his clothing, brushed back his hair. Again composed in the regal countenance of a would be emperor, he stepped toward the door, beyond which lay a new world, a world that would soon be the empire of Khan Noonian Singh. The door slid open.

And there stood Leonard McCoy, "Good god man, did you have to take all day? Outa my way, I gotta go."


End file.
